


Coming Home

by JoMouse



Series: Sterek Week 2020 [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Don't copy to another site, First Meetings, M/M, Past Lives, Pining, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmates, stereksoulmate, sterekweek2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:08:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27253177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoMouse/pseuds/JoMouse
Summary: Stiles moves to a new city and on his first day, he spots another resident in the building. He keeps seeing him and there's just something about him.
Relationships: Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Sterek Week 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1985668
Comments: 22
Kudos: 144





	Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings and Salutations!
> 
> Day 4 of Sterek Week and the last day I had written ahead of time! EEPS! 
> 
> Big thanks to my beta [Marie](HTTP://quietzap.tumblr.com) for looking this over and helping me make some decisions. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it!
> 
> xx-Joey
> 
> Don't know 'em. Don't own 'em. Don't show 'em.

Stiles stood in front of the building, a bag over his shoulder and a wide smile on his face. He looked at his dad who was frowning, a judgemental look in his eyes. “It’s not that bad,” he told him and his father huffed before turning back to the truck they’d rented and pulled a box out.

Stiles was moving into his own place for the first time. He’d gotten a job with a computer company a couple of hours from home and had spent the last couple of weeks looking for a place to live. He’d stumbled across the ad for this particular building by complete chance, but once he’d found the advertisement in a newspaper left on the table he’d claimed at the coffee shop, he hadn’t been able to get it out of his mind.

The photos he’d seen of the inside were beautiful but the outside left a bit to be desired so he could understand his father’s disapproval; he just hoped that once he saw the inside he would change his mind. Even just standing outside, Stiles could feel a tug somewhere low in his gut pulling him towards the building. Taking the keys they’d picked up from the rental company, he put one into the lock of the front door, surprised when the door was pulled away, the key going with it. Looking up, a man with dark stubble and an equally startled expression on his face filled Stiles’ field of vision. 

“Sorry, dude,” Stiles said and the guy gave a nod, stepping back to hold the door open so Stiles and his father could get inside. By the time they were in and Stiles turned around to thank him, the door was closing. Frowning, Stiles glanced at his father who gave him a look. “What?”

“Nothing,” his father responded, shaking his head with a small, fond smile on his face. “Nothing at all.”

It took a number of trips up and down the stairs, his father’s face at the ‘out of order’ sign on the elevator priceless. Thankfully, Stiles had already been there a few days before to have the furniture he’d purchased moved in when the elevator was still working. Once they were done, Stiles followed his father to the rental lot to drop off the truck, and then his dad insisted on taking him grocery shopping and filling his fridge. 

They were walking up the stairs, both of them loaded down with bags when they saw the guy from that morning again. He was entering the stairwell from the same floor that Stiles lived on, so they were going to be neighbors. Stiles didn’t want to put a name to the feeling that settled low in his gut at that piece of knowledge. The man was clearly in a hurry but was polite enough to whisper, “Excuse me,” as he hit the stairs, practically sliding down the railing to avoid running into Stiles or his father.

Stiles and his dad exchanged a look and a shrug before continuing through the door to his floor and down to his apartment. They ended up ordering pizza for dinner, both of them too tired to cook after all the activity of the day, even putting the groceries away was exhausting and he would’ve put it off if so much didn’t have to be put in the fridge and freezer. By the time they turned in for the night, Stiles passed out before his head even hit the pillow dreading having to drive his dad home and come back again the next morning.

That night he dreamt of a baseball diamond, the full moon shining down on the bases. He was approaching the pitcher’s mound where a man with longer hair and a pornstar mustache but no discernable facial features was waiting. He threw a ball in the air and laughed as Stiles felt himself leap at him and knock the two of them to the ground shaking with laughter. He woke up feeling sad and chalked it up to taking his father home that morning.

A week passed before Stiles saw his neighbor again. This time they were both getting their mail from the boxes in the lobby and exchanged nods before going their separate ways but his eyes remained in Stiles’ memory for the rest of the day. He was still trying to figure out what color they were and why they sent a feeling of warmth through him. He paused by the mailbox he’d been using and saw “D. Hale” printed there but the name didn’t ring any bells in his memory to explain the familiarity he felt surrounding the man. Shrugging, he continued upstairs to call and check in with his dad who asked about the mysterious neighbor as he always did causing Stiles to blush and change the subject to his dad’s diet.

The months continued with Stiles settling into his new job and making new friends. There was a guy that worked down the hall from him that reminded him so much of Danny from back home that it was easy to form a bond with him. They started getting together on Fridays after work with some other people for drinks at a bar about halfway between the office and Stiles’ apartment. One Friday after a particularly bad week, they’d all had a little too much to drink and Stiles invited Jared to walk back to his place with him and they’d crash there, picking up their vehicles the next morning.

As they were coming up on the building, leaning into each other and laughing, Stiles spotted his neighbor unlocking the front door. His shoulders were hunched against the slight chill in the air and he looked like he’d had as bad a week as Stiles had. Nudging Jared, he jerked his chin towards him and wiggled his eyebrows. There had been many lunch hours and bar nights spent discussing the hot guy in his building with the beautiful eyes, but this was the first opportunity for Jared to see him in the flesh.

Despite his best efforts to be covert, his drunkenness must have taken over and he’d made some kind of noise, hopefully not a moan, because his neighbor looked up, his gaze locking on the two of them before returning to the key he was sliding into the lock. “You’re right, Stiles, his eyes are gorgeous,” Jared said behind his hand in a stage whisper that Stiles was sure his father had heard back home in Beacon Hills. 

His neighbor’s shoulder stiffened and Stiles slapped a hand over his face hard enough to knock himself off balance. Jared laughed and struggled to keep him on his feet but they both ended up in a tangled mess on the sidewalk, the sharp sting on the back of his elbow telling Stiles he’d need first aid before bed. He had a flash of a feeling of large hands fluttering over the injury and he jumped to his feet looking around for someone other than Jared and his dainty hands.

By the time they managed to get to their feet, the neighbor was gone but there was a magazine stuck in the door, holding it open and Stiles took it with him as they stumbled into the elevator. Stiles sniffed, wondering if the cologne he could barely smell was from his neighbor. He hid his face in the magazine as Jared continued talking about the man’s eyes. If he kept the magazine next to his bed, that was no one’s business but his since there was no one worth taking there except for his fantasies of his neighbor, detailed in ways they normally weren’t.

That night he dreamt of a man with a bright smile and a slight accent. His face was unclear but Stiles blamed it on the brim of his newsboy cap shadowing his face from the bright sun that was shining above them. They stood outside a store window, talking quietly about nothing important but Stiles glanced down to see their pinky fingers linked together. He woke up with a smile on his face until he remembered the night before and his humiliation in front of his neighbor.

The next couple of times that Stiles saw his neighbor, he avoided looking him in the face but always watched him as he walked away. Eventually, when the neighbor didn’t acknowledge the incident, he started greeting him with small smiles and one or two-word greetings. He was getting his mail and pulled out a thick envelope with the name “Mr. Derek Hale and Guest” written in fancy writing on it. 

The last name rang a bell and when he compared the address on the envelope to the mailbox of his neighbor, they matched. He grinned as he whispered the name to himself, liking the way it felt in his mouth and the joy at finally having a name to go with the handsome face and shy smiles.

He tried to slide the envelope into Derek’s mailbox but the slot was too small. Frustrated, he tried to figure out another way to get the envelope to him. His mind still going over elaborate plans, he was startled by the door opening behind him. Turning around, he saw Derek walking in, his arms full of grocery bags and his eyes tired as he walked right past him without a second glance.

“Derek?” Stiles called and his eyes snapped up, the green dull and slightly lifeless even as they widened slightly and the corners of his lips twitched down into a frown before his slight bunny teeth dug into the lower one.

Stiles held up the envelope, pointing to the address on the front. “I think this is yours.” Derek sighed and nodded, so Stiles looked around before slipping the envelope into one of the bags between a bunch of spinach and a loaf of french bread and he had a moment of wondering if he was in a movie because that was the only time he’d ever seen people buy french bread.

“Thanks, Stiles,” he said as he started to walk away. Stiles stared after him, trying to figure out how Derek knew his name before remembering Jared calling it out loudly on that night he’d tried not to think about.

The embarrassment faded quicker and it was only a few days later that he was back to greeting Derek with a smile and his name. The greeting was always returned but any time he tried to work up the nerve to say more something would happen to distract either him or Derek and the moment would be over before it began. As the months passed and the weather got a bit cooler out, he noticed that Derek wore beautiful black gloves and he wondered if they were real leather. He found out one day when Ms. Bacari from the fifth floor’s pomeranian wrapped his leash around his legs while his owner was trying to flirt with Derek.

Stiles hit the ground with a grunt and the woman laughed at him while Derek’s eyes narrowed in concern. He reached out, grabbing Stiles by the wrist and yanked him to his feet, the leather of his gloves still cool from the air outside. Then he’d knelt to untangle his legs from the leash while lecturing Ms. Bacari on proper petcare. Stiles just gaped as Derek lifted his pant leg where the leash had rubbed harshly against his bare skin. “You’ll need to take care of that,” he said, running the tip of his finger around the abrasion, the leather soothing against his skin and a feeling of deja vu washed over him.

“Thanks, Derek,” Stiles muttered and they shared a laugh when Ms. Bacari scooped her dog up and stormed off to the elevator. 

Choosing to avoid following her, they walked up the stairs together, chatting a bit about nonconsequential things like the weather and their plans for the holidays. Derek’s sisters were coming over to spend some time with him and Stiles liked the smile that crossed his face as he talked about them. Stiles mentioned he was heading home to his dad’s place for a few days and he tried to keep back his feelings as he always did when he thought about holidays without his mom, even after nearly twenty years he still missed her way too much, especially around the holidays. He appreciated Derek not asking like most people did but something in his eyes told Stiles there was a reason he didn’t.

They parted ways when they reached their floor, Stiles going right and Derek going left with a reminder to clean his leg and put some ointment on it if he had any. Stiles promised he would and then they both stood awkwardly for a moment before continuing to their respective apartments and Stiles tried to hold back the smile on his face. He’d been trying for months to have a conversation with Derek and it turned out to be the easiest thing he could have done; even after just the one conversation, he felt like he’d known him for years.

That night he dreamt of standing over a cowboy, rudimentary clown makeup the only clear thing on his face. He was lying back on dirt, his arm cradled to his chest and pained cries coming from his mouth. Dropping next to him, Stiles removed his hat to reveal raven black hair soaked with sweat and he ran a hand through it, leaning over and pressing a kiss to the top of the mystery man’s head. He woke up feeling afraid and sad but he quickly shook it off as he got ready to go Christmas shopping.

He didn’t see Derek again before he left to go home for the holidays but he did hear unfamiliar female laughter and screeching coming from Derek’s end of the hall and imagined it was the sisters he’d spoken so fondly about. He had a good time at home with his father and friends from high school and didn’t miss the way that his dad asked about Derek more than once. He rolled his eyes but shared the story of the day he’d rescued him from Ms. Bacari’s evil dog.

When it was time to head back to his apartment, he brushed away tears and hugged his father tightly. As he pulled back, his father smirked and said, “Tell Derek I said ‘hi’,” and Stiles smacked him in the arm, but it did the trick of stopping his tears. He was still laughing as he pulled onto the expressway for the drive.

He parked and started unloading the things he’d packed into his trunk, having come home with way more than he’d left with because his father insisted on spoiling him and his friends all did the same. He appreciated every last gift so he hadn’t wanted to leave anything behind. Moving carefully towards the door, he spotted a few people dressed up for New Year’s Eve parties leaving and he smiled when an older couple held the door open for him.

He struggled through the door, his arms laden with gifts and reusable bags full of food and gifts. He peeked overtop and didn’t see anything coming his way so he shuffled forward, trying to keep his gait steady and his posture upright. He was only a few steps in, his eyes on the package balanced perilously on top when he hit something hard and stumbled backward, his hip colliding with the small table under the mailboxes and the packages in his arms tumbling to the floor. He’d never been so thankful to get clothes for the holidays. Groaning, he knelt down and started to gather the packages.

Another person was helping gather the packages and when Stiles looked up, his eyes met Derek’s who was giving him a smile. “Sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.” He wiggled his phone in one hand and held out the book on the History of Comics that his friend Scott had gotten him for Christmas with the other.

“Thanks, dude. I always thought if we collided it would be my fault,” Stiles teased and reached out to take the book, his bare fingers brushing Derek’s and a jolt of electricity traveled up his arm and his vision blurred. 

He looked up to see if Derek felt it but the face he saw wasn’t Derek’s but it was at the same time. His hair was longer and he had a terrible mustache. Before he could take in any more details, the image shifted to a clean-shaven Derek with a newsboy cap on his head and a firm set to his jaw. There was another shift and Derek was a cowboy with face paint, a cast on the arm touching Stiles. The images kept shifting making Stiles dizzy but every face was Derek’s underneath the different looks. His vision cleared and he jerked backwards in shock at Derek looking as stunned as he did.

Derek’s eyes traced Stiles’ face as his mouth opened and closed several times without any sound coming out. “Have we met before?” he finally managed to choke out. “Like, before here in this building?”

“I know we haven’t, but I feel like we have,” Stiles said, the words sounding ridiculous to himself but Derek just nodded before shaking his head and returning to picking up packages. Derek helped him, taking half of the load in one arm and reaching for Stiles’ hand with the other.

Stiles looked down at their joined hands, thinking it should feel strange or invasive, but it felt nothing like that. It felt like coming home.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I had debated leaving it off here, but I liked it and I think I still filled the prompt pretty well. 
> 
> Can anyone name the versions of Derek/Tyler Hoechlin that Stiles saw?
> 
> Come say 'hi' on Tumblr. I'm 'josjournal' over there. Or you can come say 'hi' on Twitter where I go by "JolynnMG".


End file.
